


totality

by Goodknight



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood, Discussion Of Murder, Hux's politics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodknight/pseuds/Goodknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren pulled back sharply, his nose crinkling, upper lip lifting off his yellowed teeth.</p><p>‘Is that not what you wanted?’ Hux drawled, retracting his arm.</p><p>'Why would I want you to put out your fucking cigarette on my tongue?’</p>
            </blockquote>





	totality

**Author's Note:**

> A handful of scenes from Hux and Ren's life / my attempts at hashing out who I think these characters might be as people. Oneshot for now :) Hope you enjoy the short read!

Ren pulled back sharply, his nose crinkling, upper lip lifting off his yellowed teeth.  
  
‘Is that not what you wanted?’ Hux drawled, retracting his arm.  
  
'Why would I want you to put out your fucking cigarette on my tongue?’ 

'I didn’t think to ask, did I?’ Hux laid back on the sofa, took a drag. 'I am smoking; you had your tongue out. I just assumed.’   
  
Ren kept shaking his head, face pinched with disgust. 'I wanted the other end, obviously.’   
  
'Shame you didn’t get it, then, I suppose.’   
  
'You fucking bastard.’   
  
'Maybe next time, to avoid misunderstandings like this, you’ll use your words. Like an adult.’ Hux squished his cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table. His third glass of whiskey was sliding down his arms and legs, languid and amber, honey in his fingers. Ren had his ankles in his lap. Between sips, Hux draped his arm loosely over Ren’s calf and swirled the whiskey, liking the sharp feeling of Ren’s shin bone against his radius.   
  
Ren slumped against the cushions, breath at Hux’s shoulder, overlarge body a curlicue.  
  


* * *

  
‘Liberal democracy is such a farce.’ Hux snapped his newspaper.   
  
Ren yawned. He was bent at the waist, forearms on the table, slow fingers scrolling through a google search on Hux’s laptop. Hux leant a little to the side so Ren’s jutted hip wouldn’t bump the side of his head.   
  
'It is absolutely no wonder this country has so many social problems.’  
  
Ren looked at Hux under his armpit. 'Do you need this back?’  
  
'Eventually.’ Hux felt along Ren’s belt, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his pants. 'I could read the steps aloud, if that would make things easier.’   
  
'I don’t need you to. I can remember them.’  
  
Hux’s nails skittered across Ren’s lower back. 'I’d like it back, then, since you’re so capable.’  
  
'Do you want dinner or not?’   
  
Hux made a choked-off, non-committal sound that was almost like a laugh. His free hand was trying to flatten his crumpled newspaper. The other was busily knuckling Ren’s spine, like he was trying to bruise him. Ren gnashed his teeth at him before pulling away to start the water boiling. He jostled Hux’s chair when he squeezed behind it on his way to the fridge, and kicked at its legs on the way back. Hux deflated like a helium balloon as the legs squeaked across the floor, impaling his middle on the table edge.   
  
'Have I upset you?’ He asked, voice flat.  
  
'No.’   
  
'Come here.’  
  
Ren rolled his eyes and backed away from the stove. Hux tilted his nose up expectantly, so Ren could lean down and kiss him where he sat. His fingers guided Ren closer, closer, until he was sitting on the table, legs on either side of Hux, kissing him, putting the pads of his fingers against Hux’s temples, brushing at his gel-slick hair, kissing him, kissing him, until Hux’s laptop jingled and Hux sunk his front teeth into Ren’s lip like he was trying to staple them together.   
  
'Mmmow.’ Ren mumbled against Hux’s chin. Blood on Hux’s chin, blood on Ren’s chin. Ren’s blood.  
  
'I’m in a debate.’ Hux explained, patting Ren’s side.   
  
Ren sucked his lip into his mouth. He maneuvered himself away from Hux and back to the stove.  
  
'I’m arguing that the proletariat have no place voting - for their own good. My opponent keeps bringing up equality, but really, how can we trust an uneducated working class to understand the complex workings of the two-party system, let alone make intelligent decisions about who runs the whole flawed mess? You can come back here.’ Hux turned to watch Ren pour wine into a pan, one arm on the back of the heavy chair. 'Or have I turned you off?’  
  
'I’m not turned on.’   
  
'So you feel neutral about this.’   
  
'I feel sexually indifferent about politics.’ Ren rolled his eyes and turned back to the bolognese. 'Are you… uh, are you turned on?’  
  
Hux hummed, tilted his head from side to side a moment, watching Ren stabbing the boiling pasta sauce with a large wooden spoon. 'A little.’   
  


* * *

  
'I think I could kill someone.’ Ren’s whispers were loud. He couldn’t help his cumbersome voice.   
  
'There are people who deserve to die, certainly - for the greater good, for society’s advancement, that sort of thing. Nothing personal.’   
  
'If I was angry enough.’ Ren elaborated.   
  
Hux’s eyes flicked down to where Ren’s head was resting on his chest. The room was so blue, Ren’s hair so black, skin so pale, his moles like dark constellations, the only stars in the light polluted city. Hux’s fingers twitched, so he knotted them in Ren’s oily hair and tugged and untangled and rubbed. 'Overpopulation.’ Hux breathed into their bedroom. 'One of the many issues our generation faces.’  
  
'I just mean.’ Ren’s mouth shook, fluttering, light and frail on Hux’s naked sternum. 'I snap. I don’t think.’  
  
'You’re an emotional, irrational person.’ Hux agreed. 'You have an anger management problem.’  
  
'What’s your excuse?’   
  
'I’m a bad person.’  
  
Ren smiled on Hux’s skin. 'How would you do it?’ He asked.   
  
'Policy.’ Hux said after a moment’s thought. 'I’d like to see the death sentence reinstated.’   
  
'So you’d be an executioner?’  
  
'I’d be a politician. Or a president. Better yet, since this is fantasy, a dictator.’   
  
The shadows tilted on the walls as a car passed behind the curtains on the window. 'When I was younger.’ Ren said, and halted. Each word tickled Hux. 'I used to think about. How I could just. Stab my father. I wouldn’t even go to jail. I would be too young to know what I had done. If I cried I would get away with it.’   
  
'And then no one would ever tell you to go to bed early again?’   
  
Ren exhaled. 'He never told me to go to bed early.’


End file.
